


Psi, Chi, and Thunder Thighs

by letters2the0



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, Greek, deadlifting, jaime brienne and i are all fans of these things, language learning intensifies, study buddies au, unconditional love and support from best friends, women being intellectually badass, women being physically powerful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letters2the0/pseuds/letters2the0
Summary: Lannister wants to be study buddies.Brienne's not sure what's more improbable: them buddying, or him studying.She is pleasantly surprised.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	Psi, Chi, and Thunder Thighs

Brienne was filling in stroke after stroke with her pen, lazily curling it around to capture xi before finishing off omicron, pi, rho, and sigma in quick succession when she suddenly became aware of…. _breathing._  


“How, Tarth? How do you do that?” Lannister said with a frustrated grin that was far, far too close to her face. Brienne gripped the pen as she scrabbled at the paper and tried to sit up in her chair. Nope. Too close. Lannister was standing right behind her and so far over her shoulder to watch her finish Professor Stark’s worksheets that she didn’t need to look to know he was just coming off the soccer field.  


Grass, sweat, and Gatorade. Charming.  


“Finish homework? Funny, Lannister, I thought you’d never ask—”  
“The characters, Tarth. How do you do them so well?”  
Brienne stopped short. That really didn’t sound like anything but a compliment. She reversed the words, and then ordered them alphabetically by their third letter. No, that really didn’t seem to have any hidden jibe, not that Lannister usually hid them that well. She shuffled the papers while searching for something adequately devastating to say (but not _too_ devastating—she didn’t want to be the kind of person who started fights with Jaime Lannister, just someone who ended them). 

“Because Stark is going to fail me next week for sure,” Lannister said, backing away from her chair. _Oh. Good._ He pulled the chair from the opposite table over. _Shit._ “And normally I’d be cool with that, plenty of practice failing classes under my belt, but seeing how next week is the second week I’d like to get a little farther before falling on my ass.” 

“You normally try to fall on your ass instead of be an ass?”  
“You normally think a lot about my ass?”  
Brienne glowered at him as Lannister, _damn him,_ just winked and kept talking. “So I need help—” “ _Obviously_.” “Great, see you tomorrow, Tarth. You’re a babe.” He clapped his hands on the desk and stood up.  
Brienne’s mouth dropped. “No, you—”  
“No,” Jaime countered, leaning back over Brienne again so close that all she could see was his stupid green eyes with a peripheral of his stupid golden hair. She resisted the urge to headbutt him and knock him on his—knock him off his feet. She’s _not_ thinking about his ass.  
“I’m asking for help, Tarth. It’s embarrassing enough. You don’t need to make this more painful than this is,” he said before pulling away.  
“What, insult the freak before you take my help?” Brienne muttered as she scooted her chair a little further away from him and turned back to her books.  


Jaime’s hands were suddenly on her armrests. “Excuse me, what?”  
Brienne looked up. Jaime was smiling, but the hard look in his eyes didn’t seem to find anything amusing.  
“I said,” Brienne started with irritation, “why are you insulting the freak before you ask for her help? Doesn’t make me much inclined to _assist_ you, Lannister.”   
Jaime’s eyes flitted over her face so fast she coiled back, ready for a nasty line about her mouth or chest said at top-volume to the rest of the library.  
She was not ready for him to say in the same dreaded volume, “Tarth, what the fuck?”  
They blinked at each other before Brienne caved in first, gathering up her papers to leave and hurriedly shoving them into her bookbag before the infuriated librarian can make it over. She quickly walked out, narrowly beating the woman to the door, but not without Jaime following close behind. 

“You’re with Hyle, aren’t you?” she said immediately after crossing the library threshold. Jaime looked at her with bemusement.  
“The towel guy?”  
“Towel guy?” Brienne was getting more off-balance by the second. She sat down on the bench by the doors, frowning deeper as Jaime helped himself to the other end.  
“I guess he plays a position, but I never see him off the bench. Might as well be the designated towel guy. What about him, Tarth? If you’re already tutoring him, I’ll sit in and won’t make a sound, I swear—”  
“You’re not with him?” Brienne asked, suddenly uncertain of what all this meant if Lannister wasn’t here as part of _prank, conclusion_ , or worse, _phase two_.  
“If I _wanted_ to get with towel guy, I’m sure I _could_ get with towel guy, but he’s not really my type?” Lannister screwed up his nose. “Feisty blondes are more my scene, if you know what I mean,” he said before winking.  
Brienne flushed and grabbed for the last line out of Jaime’s mouth that made sense. Well, without the benefit of a time machine. “You want a tutor?”  
“Yes.” The air rushed out of Jaime and he looked almost— _solemn_ , for once in his trickster-god life. “I’m dyslexic. This class is absolute murder, and we’ve literally only finished Wednesday’s class. For a Monday, Wednesdsay, Friday class. I’m fucked and we haven’t even gotten out of _syllabus week_ yet. I wouldn’t ask you for any other reason considering you are the only person alive who has managed to beat me on the field, and I hate conceding not once but _twice_ that you’re better at me than something. Please don’t make me say it again.” He looked at her with something close to a plea in his eyes. “I’ll bring snacks, I’ll listen to you, I promise to distract the teacher on days you need to finish your homework under the desk before roll call. I need your help.” 

Brienne’s breath caught. Here it was. Everything she wanted.  
“Lift with me,” she said.  
Jaime leaned back against the bench and kicked his feet up, practically putting them in her lap. “Like, drive? I guess? If you need the money?”  
“ _No_ —deadlift. I lift. And I need a spotter.”  
“Like, today?”  
Brienne slowly let out a breath. “No. Twice a week. We can negotiate times so as not to mess with soccer practice, but I need someone spotting me for the level of weights that I’m working with. And I don’t have another partner to keep an eye on me to make sure I’m not about to hit my head on the weights and promptly drop the bar on my toes.”  
“Oh. Sure,” Jaime said, flicking his sunglasses against his thighs. “And?”  
Brienne stared at him. “And…critique me?”  
Jaime sat up straighter. “And that’s it?”  
She smiled. “Well, if we’re negotiating, then coffee at Selmy’s 8am and lunch at Tully’s 11am and—”  
Jaime gesticulated wildly to cut her off until she laughed. “Wench,” he started as she spluttered. “You got it. I spot _you_. You spot _me_ a couple of hours a week on Greek. We got a deal?”  


Brienne considered him carefully one more time as he sat there next to her on the plasticky bench in front of the library. Hawaiian tshirt, sunglasses dangling out of his shorts pocket, hand out to shake, and green eyes fixed on her. Her move.  


“Deal.” They shake, and Brienne ignores the tingling in her hands as they do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Currently working on two ficfests, so the next chapter will be a while in coming. Excited, though!  
> This is my first time writing J/B and writing romance/flirt factor in general. Let me know what you think!


End file.
